Two Sides of the same Coin
by Lorythme
Summary: By day a well-behaved nerd, at night a deadly member of a gang. As far back as he can remember, Blaine has always lived two lives. Without any problems so far. But this stops when he meets Kurt Hummel, whose live resembles his in many aspects and who hides something terrible behind his perfect and popular façade -Badboy!Blaine,Cheerio!Kurt-depression,cutting, swearing
1. The prologue

So this is my first fanfiction since a very long time and I'm not sure how well this is going to be :) I have everything planned out so far, so I guess this one will be finished. ( I swear xD).

As you maybe saw in the short summary, this story has some heavy topics.

Trigger Warnings for:

Cutting/ Self harm

Eating disorders

Violence

swearing

depression

and abuse

If you feel triggered by some of these topics then please please please don't read this! There is enough fluff on this side to drown in ;)

The story itself is actually written in german and can be found here : s/8344324/1/Zweitgesicht

Sadly I'm not very skilled in english so the AWESOME **EnchantedToReadYou** translated the german version for me.

You can find her and her** amazing** Klaine / SasuNaru Stories here : u/2756533/EnchantedToReadYou ( you should visite if you like D/s relationships and Klainebastian... _**and lots of angst**_) - Thank you so much again! :D :D :D

So here's the prologue :

* * *

**_Kurt _**

The music caused the floor and the people standing on it to shake in time with the bass. People stood side by side, rubbing their sweaty, perfumed bodies on each other, while moving in a big mass equally to the music. The movements wanton and the gazes promising.

In the middle of the floor was Kurt, eyes closed, letting himself drift with the crowd. From every direction bodies rubbed on him and shoved him against others, who in turn repeated this game over and over. The music changed seamlessly over to the next song and let his heart beat heavily. The alcohol had left a stale aftertaste in his mouth and he tried to swallow it, when suddenly the mood changed. It seemed as if the floor began to tilt and he stumbled a little. Suddenly it was too warm, too narrow, too loud, too full.

Too much at once.

A pressing feeling rushed through his system and he opened his eyes to look a girl in the face, who was dancing in front of him, groping and pushing. Those touches burned his skin unpleasantly and he stepped back as much as was possible with this little space. She didn´t recognize him, only looked through him with glazed over eyes and a peaceful smile. Her dark hair clung to her sweaty face and her pupils were dilated, so that one could barely make out the thin stripe that was her blue iris. Her face told him she wasn´t really there.

´Drugs´, popped into Kurt´s head and for a short moment he wasn´t sure what to do. A strong arm grasped her waist and pressed her body against the person behind her. The man turned her head his way and kissed her open mouthed.

Kurt could vaguely remember that she had entered the club with friends; they had stood behind him, waiting in line. Eavesdropping, he had heard that it was their first time out clubbing. He doubted she had consensually taken the drugs. It was so easy slipping them to someone in the crowd. Without another glance at the girl, he turned around and tried to escape the warm crowd. Away, he wanted to be away from the oppressive confinement, the unreasonable compassion for the girl and the loud music that numbed his senses. But even gone from the dance floor, he couldn´t swallow the lump in his throat, it were too many people at once. Gripped by sudden panic, he hurried to the women's bathroom and opened the door dynamically.

The flood of perfumed air hit him and made it difficult to swallow, but was a welcome distraction for his throat. The few girls that were in the bathroom let their conversation come to an end and eyed him from head to toe, before continuing. He wasn´t a threat for them, he was gay and the flamboyant kind at that. He had used the girls room since middle school, none of the girls had ever complained and everything was better than to be beaten up.

He passed the girls and locked himself into a cabin. With his hands burrowed in his complex styled hair, he sat down on a closed toiled seat and leaned on his knees. He didn't know himself what had happened on the dance floor. He had had fun, drank, danced and had tried to forget himself. That was exactly what he planned on doing every time. To forget himself in the crowd, drown his sorrow with alcohol and the escape his life for just few lousy hours. Being in the crowd for him meant not being alone, but for the first time since this realization, he questioned this thought. The oppressing feeling of loneliness, no matter how many people surrounded him, how close they were, couldn´t be shaken off. No matter how hard he tried to be part of the crowd, he felt isolated and discarded. In the cabin, he listened to someone violently vomiting, again and again, until the fingers couldn´t take any more. She flushed and left the cabin quickly. Only the smell of vomit remained.

He leaned back and closed his eyes. He didn't belong here, it was neither his scene, nor something he liked to do. This here was not him. Not the Kurt, his father thought he was, not the Kurt his mother knew. The nights were obligatory, he had to come or he wouldn´t be able to follow the conversation the next say. The status in the McKinley High was important. Either you were in or you weren´t. And if you belonged to the later, your life contained of bruises and ripped books.

Instead of letting the penetrating music destroy his eardrums, he preferred going to the theater and listing to musicals. Instead of ruining his voice with cigarettes and burning alcohol, he liked singing from the bottom of his soul and instead of dressing sexy, he liked to dress fancy and fashionable.

But those were thing he wanted, not the majority. And you had to listen to the group if you wanted to be in it. So Kurt went clubbing every week, drank, smoked, shoved his fingers down his throat and kissed strangers, who always demanded more than he was willing to offer. It was as if he acted on autopilot, sometimes he didn´t realize anything around him and spend a day without knowing what he had done in the evening. It wasn´t what he wanted, but it saved him a place in the group, that let him forget his loneliness for a moment.

The loneliness that had a hold of him since the death of his mother. She had been the only one who had understood him and always would understand him. Of course he had friends, even real friends, but they would never get what it meant to be him. Even the relationship with his father wasn´t what it once had been. Since he had started, conversations were strained and the dinners were quiet. They didn´t have anything to say to each other, even if Kurt internally cried for his father, he couldn't make a sound. And since Carole and Finn were part of their family, he as a son wasn´t worth anything. With a last sight he stood up from the toilet seat and went past some girls to exit the room.  
The dance floor wasn´t an option any longer. One panic attack a night was more than enough and he had lost the desire to dance, if there had been any.

The bar was empty except for a few youths and in this moment exactly what Kurt needed. He had already drunken a bit, but the perspective of being unable to think sounded blissful to him. He sat down on a barstool and waited until the barkeeper noticed him.

Right before he could order anything he saw him and the air of his lungs escaped him as if he had been hit. He always had this effect on him.

He stood just a few feet away at a pillar and looked at him directly and shamelessly, the green-grey eyes twinkled in the flickering light and his mouth shaped into a smile that gave little hint of the teeth behind it. Kurt´s neck tingled and an unpleasant shiver let him shift forward. He quickly diverted his gaze and bit down hard on his lower lip. Of course he was here. He could find him anywhere, without exceptions and always took what he thought was his. It bordered on obsession. It had been stupid of Kurt to think he could escape him even for a single night. Escaping was futile, he had seen him already and he would probably follow him if he tried. And to be with him in a vacated place was the last thing Kurt wanted.

The only thing left to do was to give in. As he always did. Without paying the barkeeper any attention, who had asked him three times already what he would like to order, Kurt stood up and went into his direction. Behind the pillar was a niche covered by heavy curtains and in the darkness only slightly identifiable. He walked around the pillar and slipped into the dark niche, where he was greeted by an iron like grip on his wrist and a moist, alcohol smelling mouth.

Maybe, he thought, maybe he could fade out, if he just listened to the music. He closed his eyes and concentrated fully on the beat in hoped of being able to ignore the groping hands on his body and the foreign, penetrating tongue in his mouth- It was worth a try.

* * *

**_Blaine _**

The night was dark.

Too dark. The flickering lanterns given up on their service and they spend the streets only little light. The park wasn´t fat from the separated train station and the soft chatter of late nighttrains was the only thing that cut through the silence. It was their territory. The park, the paths, the streets. Everything belonged to them and was noticeably marked. Every space was covered in graffiti and objects destroyed to make that clear.

The warbler bird was everywhere and showed everyone on whose ground they were on. Misconceptions were nonexistent; if someone showed up it would be seen as a challenge and challenges were taken on without exceptions. Streetfights over a territory were not rare and when silhouettes appeared in the moonlight, Blaine wasn´t surprised. He was ready.

Some of the seated Warblers stood up provokingly slow as if the armored youth's weren´t dangerous.  
"Look who had stumbled in our territory." Jeff does a welcoming gesture with both his hands."Come here.", he wore a sinister smile. The rest of the Warblers surrounded him and mocked them along with the blonde Warbler. Even if Jeff was the one who showed off the most, without the agreement of Wes, David and Thad, the leaders, he was only allowed to bark.

Wes, who had just played with a pocketknife, casually rose from the wall, he leaned against and pointed to the direction the intruders stood. These had formed a sort of line on whose peak a guy in the early twenties stood. The hands noticeable hidden in his pocket and a cigarette between his lips. His eyes were blood-shot and slightly dilated.

"Well, Jack, you know on whose territory you are at, don't you? Do you really want to face that?", Wes closed the pocket knife and drew on his cigarette. "You shitty birds kept this part for far too long as your territory." Someone else spat and stepped closer to Wes and the group.

"We thought we extend our territory and get rid of you at the same time. Kill two birds with one stone." His boys started laughing and uttered joyful cries.

Wes didn´t seem impressed and Blaine would have believed it, if it wasn´t for the twitching in his eyebrow and his clutched jaw.

"What is it; aren´t the sluts in your territory enough?" Jeff seemed to be in his highest form; he even took the otherwise permanently between his lips cigarette to put it out with his foot." We want a fight one-on-one." The boy of the opposite group then stepped closer, stupidly thinking he was tough, while Blaine would rather call it him having a death wish, until he stood in front of Wes. His eyes challenging.

"Sure, if you get rid of the weapon in your pocket, I´m in. We would want to have a fair little fight, don´t we?" Jacks eyelids narrowed. "Sure." He spat and pulled a shotgun out of his pocket. "This one?" He asked mockingly twirling it with his fingers. „Well I for one think I should use it, it would be a pity wasting it." He strengthened his grip and was about to point it at Wes, when pain shot through his hand and the shotgun skidded several feet away.

No one had noticed Blaine, who had seen through the situation early on and with incredible speed had kicked the weapon right out of Jack´s hands. Without giving Jack a second to adjust, he stroke out to hit his forehead with his fist. He cried out and tumbled a few steps back. His gang was stupefied for a few seconds, but then took this as the starting signal. Without further talking they ran toward the Warblers and mixed with them in a big fighting heap.

On the other hand they didn´t seem to be armored and had only slight chance to overpower them with weapon equipped Warblers. At the same time, three men sprang toward Blaine, who dodged the uncoordinated attacks while surprising them with blows at the same time. Years of martial art training and boxing had paid off; for such a small build he could do a lot of damage.

He was the bodyguard of Wes and David and had, just like on this night, saved their lives. While still dealing with the three boys that could barely keep themselves standing, he didn't notice someone creeping up on him from behind him. It took much to make Blaine lose himself so far, that he completely blacked out his environment. The over the years carefully build up wall of calmness and composure was so solid that it had survived many strokes of fate and attacks.

But an aimed kick to his lower back, that let him tumble back in pain, combined with wrath was what finally made his patience snap.

Forcefully he crouched down, supported his weight on the ground and kicked out sideways. He hit the boy in his kneecap, causing him to drop down like a dead body. And although Blaine was much smaller than his enemy, he managed to take him down with him, kept in position and knelt with his leg on the boy's chest. He grabbed his throat with his left hand and his mouth warped into a grimace-like smile. The person under him desperately tried to escape, but his movement weakened noticeably and a hand pulling Blaine forcefully away, was what probably saved his life.

Blaine´s back hit the ground and he starred with narrowed eyelids at the black-haired boy opposite of him. Before he could utter a word, he was pulled up by his collar and the angry brown eyes of Nick Duval meet his. "Don´t fuck this up. Do you want the cops to get wind of this? Pull your shit together!", he shook him a few times, before shoving him hardly.

Blaine exhaled a shaking breath and took in his surroundings for the first time. The fight was over, all of the boys of the enemy group were laying hunched over on the ground, with bleeding wounds all over their bodies, but definitely breathing. The three boys he had dealt with before the attack were only few feet away on the ground, he hadn´t noticed the Warblers taking care of them. With a tightly pressed shut jaw he let his eyes travel to the boy in front of him, who writhed on the floor, coughing and panting. His eyes were closed tightly and his hands scratched his neck, while he gasped for air not unlike a fish.

He had done that.

Blaine let his hand run through his hair and licked his dry and torn lips. The taste of blood made him sick and he grabbed for a cigarette that was buried in his pocked to calm his stomach. He had against lost his patience and his mind, something that seemed to occur more often lately and only grew in its intensity. With every time he got more frightened of himself. The other group members were busy with lifting the on the ground lying men of the weight of their weapons and money. The night was, apart from a soft laugh and scrape of shoes on dusty floor, quiet and the air seemed to stand still. Blaine lifted his eyes and saw Wes nodding at him approvingly before starting a conversation with David. He knew Wes was grateful to him and would pay him back someday. Blaine didn´t know what he could demand for that, but it was always better to be on the good side of the boss. The ´red bullets´ was just one of many gangs in this area and Jack just a little fish comparing to others. The Warblers were the strongest group for now, considering the last victories of the past weeks. It had been the fifth fight in the last three weeks the Warblers had endured without major injuries and as the winners.

Lima was a hostile little Hicksville and Blaine was almost sure that there would be many more he could lose the cramped feelings in his shoulders in.

Deep in thought he didn´t notice Nick putting his arm over his shoulders and only started reacting when the cigarette between his lips was taken, so that he could draw from it. "You´re changing again tomorrow, right?" he asked, exhaling through his nose again. Blaine grunted affirmative and stole back his cigarette. It wasn´t easy getting a hold of them in his situation and he wasn´t keen on letting Nick have all of them. "Some asshole has told on me to the director."

"And he believed it? For real? I mean, with your reputation it is astounding for someone to buy that.", Nick dropped his arm and snuggled into his jacket when the wind picked up. Both of them were already moving away from the alley the fight had took place at and walked down the dimly lit street. This area was seedy and most of the lamps were destroyed already. Fighting for Blaine and Nick was for a different cause than the drugs and money the rest of the Warblers cared about. Blaine was a boxer, but with time and building pressure, hitting a motionless sand sack wasn´t enough anymore. He tried with sparring partners but the rules of the sport prevented him from going further, which was something he desperately needed to do. Fighting without rules, man versus man, fist versus fist and without consideration of injuries and pain.

This silence was what compelled Blaine to come out at night on those streets in the end. It was strangely freeing, to let go on a body that defended itself and to receive a few hits for a change, that made the fights all the more intriguing. When he found the Warblers, or they found him to be precise, he knew he had found his place. The Warblers was a lose bunch where it concerned relationships between them, but all the more interlaced when it came to fighting. That was why Blaine never was in contact with them apart from Nick he spoke to from time to time. Nick was in a way just like him, rich family, misunderstood and abandoned. He was irritated. That was probably the reason they got along so well. They were no friends, but tighter than what one could call a friendship. "He fucking videotaped me with his phone. No clue how he got the information, he just stood there in the night, hid somewhere and recorded the shit.", a last drag and the fag was thrown on the ground.

"The director could barely believe his eyes, that it was in fact ME, but he had incriminating evidence. You should have seen the faces of my parents. My father looked like his head was about to explode and my mother as if she had swallowed a whole lemon." He laughed quietly and rough."Nowadays they have installed a new security system in our house and it could take some time before I get to hang out with all of you. First I have to find a way to dodge the cameras." He sighed and looked up at the sky. The moon hung high and he could make out lighter discoloration on the horizon. That was the clear sign for him to get home to get all the sleep he could. Coffee did not substitute sleep, no matter how much he drank of the one he drank the housemaid Fr. Lopez prepared for him every day.

With a slap on the back he ditched Nick and went on his way home. The called: "Break a leg tomorrow." by Nick was answered by a gesture over his shoulder.

To receive as little attention as possible he tried to have his ´antics´, as his father liked to call them, as far away from his home as possible. If he hurried back, he might get enough sleep before 3 am to face the rest of the day. His father wasn´t keen of Blaine´s nightly journeys but he had long ago given up trying to talk about it with him. Instead he liked to keep Blaine inside with security systems and threats and letting him get outside as little as possible. He was the black sheep of the family und endangered the carefully build reputation of the Andersons.

Although his family was more damaged, than everything he had ever seen, on the outside they were picture perfect and stable. The new, young secretary and the times she spend in his father´s office were accounted as overtime work and the constantly changing pool boy wasn´t even mentioned to their guests. Even Blaine´s sexual orientation was swept under the rug and that´s why he had to listen to the bickering of them at dinner parties when they mentioned how beautiful and talented their daughters were, when he would prefer to scream in their faces: "I like cock!"

And while Blaine was the black sheep of his family, his brother was the white one. Although he had moved out years ago, he couldn´t cope with them any longer he had told Blaine, he was still the hottest topic in all of their conversations.

He proudly told his mother how he had married his girlfriend and his father how great his career as an actor was going. And no matter how good Blaine was in school, how many trophies he received in several sports, he was never mentioned. When he was younger he had hated Cooper passionately but with the years hate had changed into compassion as he noticed how they suffocated him. Marrying Katherine was not what he was planning to do, neither was to study law, what he did before starting with acting. Even if he was not as restricted by his parents as Cooper was, he had to fit into the picture perfect image of his family. The secret motto of the Andersons was: As long as we are perfect on the outside, nothing else matters.

The sweet boy, polite, helpful, well dressed, always head over a book, top of the class, that was how his neighbors and acquaintances knew him. And that had to remain this way, if he wanted to stay in his house and if he wanted to get just a penny of his legacy. That he was naturally gifted was a good coincidence of course and made it easier to obtain his Persona. He was actually not an aggressive person, he loved Broadway, music and literature but someday it was all just too much. Where would singing about his feelings get him, if he couldn´t act on them? Nights like this were used as the outlet for his feeling, the ones he had suppressed in the days prior, so that he could act as Blaine Anderson on the next day.

For the last time today, he drew on his cigarette, let it drop and crushed it under his shoe before stepping into the dark house, in hopes of receiving any sleep and waking no one up.


	2. Chapter 1- Worlds colliding

Hey guys :) Without further ado I'll present you the next chapter. Hope you'll like it!

Thanks again for by beta and translator **EnchantedToReadYou**

**No warnings for this chapter**

* * *

The first few hours of school were always the most agonizing ones.

The lounging between dozing and dry readings had never been the best combination and the majority had trouble keeping their focus. Meanwhile Blaine had given up listening to Mr. Simmons lengthy speech of McBeths goals and intentions and chose to count the obscenities that had been scratched into his old desk. Up till now he had counted 25 penises, 3 middle fingers, 5 times the word bitch and an uncountable amount of ´fucking fag´, which was carved with acknowledgeable brutally into the wooden table. He asked himself how many generations of youths had sat at this desk and wondered what they probably would think of him. Apparently nothing too good if the carved in insults were any indication for their attitude.

Blaine wasn´t bothered by insults of others, since they weren´t usually said directly to his face. Those who had dared to were quickly reminded how a ´fag´ could raise hell. Being gay hadn´t ever been a big issue for him. So what if He liked boys better than girls? It was just as much a preference as was choosing chocolate ice cream over vanilla. It didn´t cause him to be any different. The only time he had ever spend another thought on what others would think of him was when he mentioned his sexuality to his parents. He clearly could remember the frosty silence in the room, which had just been filled with pointless small talk, and the cold sweat that threatened to drip from his forehead into his eye. It had just burst out of him, without early warnings or notice. When his father simply switched topics, ignoring his comment, to the upcoming promotion, Blaine knew where this topic would remain in this family. Buried deep inside a cupboard ( or closet if you'd like some irony), preferably never brought up again. Nonetheless he felt relieved, like a load the size of an elephant had been lifted off of him. The behavior of his parent's didn´t change drastically. Love, social closeness or affection had never been important in the Anderson household and that it didn't get worse was a good sign, especially considering how little his father thought of homosexuals.

Of course there were derogatory looks and questioning comments (since the Dalton Academy for boys wasn´t exactly the school his father thought appropriate for his gay son), that Blaine endured with pressed lips and desperate tries not to pay them too much attention. Blaine had never been his favorite child, that´s what Cooper was good for, but it was the first time he was relieved his father wasn´t interested in him. Had it been Cooper who had a coming out in front of his parents, it wouldn´t have gone so smoothly.

The moment the school bell rang dragged him out of his dozed mindset. He looked up from his desk and quickly scribbled down the homework off the blackboard, before he gathered his things and put his bag over his shoulder.

Only two hours of geometry and one history lesson and he would have finished for today. He took his pile of books and was the last to leave the room. Today was the day. Word was on the street that new faces had been spotted in the night and the Warblers took it as their obligation to introduce them to the way things were in Lima and its surroundings.

Lately it had been relatively quiet on the streets and Blaine´s nightly vacations had become less frequent. Reduced to inactivity it had made him get more restless and impatient, causing the school days to be almost unbearable. He disappeared in the crowd of student, who mostly moved in one direction only, and gripped his books tighter. To walk in the hallways was probably the most dangerous thing one in his position would dare to do.

Just the thought of the cold slushies that were sold in the cafeteria, let him bristle. When he had made sure that no jock with a cup was lurking somewhere, he opened his locker and thrust the books into the small space of it. A slurred ´Nerdfag´ (which wasn´t even a word, but what had he expected from an athlete) was the only warning he got before he felt a push that caused his head to collide with the locker and let him to crumble to the floor. Locker throws.

A not only painful but also fast technique that the athletes at this school seemed to be pros at and used at any given opportunity on the losers of the chain. Blaine usually was lucky to avoid falling because of his fast reflexes, but in moments like this, when he felt save, the shoves came to abruptly to be prepared to protect himself.

Cursing internally and with a throbbing in his forehead, he moved into a sitting position. He hadn´t heard the sound of approaching steps and had to suppress the scream that bubbled on his lips when hot pain shot through his body from his hand upward. The pressure subsided but the throbbing pain remained, together with the imprint of a shoe sole.

Someone had stepped on his hand!

His reflexes kicked in and he looked up fast enough to catch the glimpse of Kurt Hummels slim build that hurried down the hall as if stung by an adder. He held his bag in a iron grip and quickly tried to fix his disheveled uniform. What struck the most was the state of his messed up hair though. No one was ever allowed to touch it, let alone rumple it up, so that alone was quite a sight. He looked fucked and Blaine bet his lunch that he had disappeared to some hidden spot with another gay student again. The tears that spilled over his cheeks were left unseen.

On the one hand he was disgusted but on the other hand he was impressed with how carefree and open-minded Hummel behaved in the homophobic, conservative town Lima. He was incredibly popular and reigned at the top of McKinley's food chain with Santana, Brittany and Quinn, however cliché that may sound. Furthermore, he was known not to be picky when it came down to men. Rumors about blowjobs behind the gym or quickies in the janitor closet were frequent and that made him a slut in the eyes of the masculine population, in whose line they´d have to wait.

No matter if you were homosexual or not, his androgynous face let one choose quickly. He was popular with both genders and knew how to use that to his advantage. And even if there were haters, they didn´t dare to act on it in fear of Sue Sylvester's and the cheerleader squat's wrath. The combination of sex and might defined his attitude and Kurt felt above anything and anyone. His eyes always held a hint of mockery and iciness that caused most students to avoid them and hurriedly scurry away. His doll-like face resembled a mask, partially lifeless and fake.

He was truly despicable

With clenched teeth, Blaine moved his throbbing hand closer and watched Hummel turn around the corner. He didn´t seem to have noticed him, or was simply ignoring him, which was probably the more reasonable case.

Quietly cursing he stood up and walked to the boys room to cool his swollen wrist. Pain wasn´t foreign to him but that didn´t mean he enjoyed his hand feeling ready to fall off. The angry bump on his forehead was the first thing he saw when he looked into the mirror that hung above the sink. With his unharmed hand he rubbed along his nasal bridge before fixing his glasses. His reflection showed a tired looking young man. His slicked back hair, big horn-rimmed glasses, mouth tightly pressed and dressed in an uncomfortable looking shirt plus bowtie. He looked pathetic.

"Fuck this." He snarled and clutched the sink.

He hated it, all of it.

He hated to disguise himself to please the family that was already contaminated from the root.

He hated having to face those pathetic excuses for jocks every day.

He hated not being able to hit back.

He hated feeling the appalled eyes of whore Hummel on him.

Heavily breathing he tore himself away from the sink, fixed his crooked glasses a second time (that by the way consisted of plain glass but added to his intelligent exterior. His mother had insisted on them) and stomped out of the room. School was the last thing on his mind and since geometry was halfway over it didn´t make much sense for him to turn up in class.

He already knew the things they taught there anyway. When he left the building cold air greeted him and he regretted leaving his jacket inside his locker. The parking lot was crowded with cars but was otherwise deserted. He crossed the parking lot and looked for a place at the wall near the school. At least he would find shelter from the wind there. While walking he grabbed a cigarette and a lighter out of his pocked and brought it to his lips. He wasn't proud of it, but smoking relaxed him and as long as he didn´t smoke more than a pack a month he didn´t worry. Clouds of smoke left his mouth and he watched them disappear into the air. It was the middle of October and the sky was clear blue, hardly interrupted by a cloud. It was a surprisingly beautiful day and Blaine wondered how much time had passed since he had thought about something as simply as the sky. And why he didn´t do this more often.

He took a last drag from his cigarette and let it fall to the floor where he put it out with his shoe. His nerves were calm and he reentered the building. He didn´t feel like having history lesson right now and he toyed with the idea to turn around, get into his car and drive home. His grades were pristine and teachers loved him, so he didn´t have to fret talking himself out of trouble. With the thought of his empty house he felt relief wash over him, since meeting his parents would be awkward and unpleasant. He dragged himself to his locker to grab the rest of his belongings when his shoulder was gripped harshly and he was turned around. He flinched and cursed when he felt the relentless eyes of Sue Sylvester on him. Had she caught him smoking? He asked himself and shuddered at the thought of it. "Well…hello Mrs. Sylvester." He stuttered and adjusted his glasses. No teacher could be angry at him when he was that nice and innocent, he had learned that on his first day of school.

The teachers here were so used to rude students that they practically jumped at the chance to talk to nice ones. "It´s Sue Sylvester for you, dwarf!" she screamed and met his eyes.

"I won´t apologize interrupting you in whatever it was you were doing. I was just walking by and thought to myself: hey. The hair gel dwarf could spend some meaningless minutes of his life for the grant Sue Sylvester to give his life some worth again. Because what I want you to do will be more important than anything you will do in your life. Forget marriage and children. Move your ass to my office right now. Get a move on!"

Blaine opened his mouth in protest but Sylvester had gripped his arm and dragged him down the hallway to a room with an opened door. Having arrived there she let him go and closed the door behind her. Blaine gazed at the countless trophies that towered on every vertical space in this room. "What is going on?" he heard a high but definitely male voice ask and turned around to face the desk Sue had already parked her legs on top of. In front of the desk there were two seats, one of which was already occupied.

Blaine just barely held his tongue. Hummel. Again. It was obvious that having his hand being stomped on wasn't enough for one day. Hummel, who had apparently spotted him as soon as he had entered the room, didn´t grace him with even a glance and vehemently stared at the woman in front of him. His hair was impeccable styled and coiffed and without any trace of its previous state. His uniform was fixed again, but that didn´t surprise him since none of the cheerios dared to have it anything but spotless in front of their coach. Blaine was quiet, sat down on the unoccupied seat and couldn´t help but slide farther away from Kurt.

He glanced at him from the side and guessed by the ramrod straight posture and the facial expression of Kurt, that he would rather eat dirt than sit next to him. The thought of that totally improved his mood.

But he still wondered what the hell Sue Sylvester would want from him and Hummel. Except if-"Helmethead, Porcelain! You probably ask yourself why I called you into my holy office. It´s your fault and your fault only Porcelain. I would have thought you were smarter but your grades tell me you have the IQ of a stone and are about to fail in chemistry and math."

Offended, Hummel gasped for air but was smart enough not to open his mouth.

"And if you don´t manage to get marks as high as you can kick, I am afraid you are off the team."

It was fascinating and almost disturbing how fast the color of his cheeks changed from red as an apple to pale as a corpse.

He forcefully bit down on his lips and kept silent.

"And why am I here if this is about Hummel?" Blaine interrupted, who had previously looked at Kurt with a smug grin .Of course he was aware of why Sylvester had dragged him here, since he had scored the highest grades in chemistry and math, but talking to Hummel was not only not a possibility but was also right at the end of the list of things he planned to do. He couldn´t stand listening to him for a whole day.

"Yes Mr.I-pass-every-examine-with-an-A. YOU will help get back at the top and tutor him.", she gestured to Kurt, whose mouth was opened in protest and had regained some of the color of his cheeks, if you considered pale as an linen sheet to be healthy. He swatted her hand away and glared at her.

"Would you mind not talking about me as if I weren´t in the room? And shouldn´t I have a word in this too?"

Sylvester seemed to ignore him and looked determined at Blaine who had sunken into his seat in defeat and equally glared at her.

"No." he snapped briefly. He seemed to think about something before adding:"I don´t have time to tutor someone. Good marks don´t just happen overnight and even if you doubt it, I do have a private life."

Sylvester's face twitched slightly and her eyes narrowed. Without taking her eyes off of Blaine, she retrieved a folder from inside of a drawer.

"You don´t leave me another choice Gluehead. Now we play dirty." She threw the folder on his side of the desk and leaned back with her arms crossed. Blaine looked at it, then up to Sue and back to the folder until he hesitantly reached out.

He took it and opened it. At once all the air left his lungs and he felt as if someone had hit him in the face. In front of him there was a file full of his personal information. And it not only contained his address or his birthday, but other data that Sue Sylvester wasn´t allowed to have and could get dangerous to him. He felt the color drain out of his face.

„T-That´s blackmailing." He shut the folder and pressed it against his chest. How did she find out about this?, he thought and chewed on the inside of his cheek.

"You don´t have permission to do that!" It was bad. Very, very, very bad. Out of the corner of his eye, Blaine could see how Hummel leaned forward, curiosity written all over his face.

Sylvester smiled smugly. „I am Sue Sylvester, look and see how I will do just that. Are you still sure you don´t want to take this job offer? I am sure there are some people who would love to see your file. In my hands I hold your chances of attending Harvard and I will not hesitate to use it."

Blaine grinded his teeth and balled his hands into fists just to open them with a suppressed hiss. His injury on the left hand throbbed continently and he cursed Hummel with anything his mind could come up with.

"If you change your mind, this folder, and the copies I have made of it, will end in the shredder and your future at an elite university is safe." Blaine lowered his eyes to the folder in his hands. In a distorted way this was his opportunity to let these unwanted things disappear for good.

If only Sylvester knew of him and he agreed to the deal, everything he loathed would go away. Taking into account the consequences that would follow if the folder was released.

"I´ll do it. I will tutor Hummel in chemistry and math and in return, you will destroy every file about me."

He put the file back on the desk and looked at her determinedly; searching for sign that he could doubt her words. Kurt loudly cleared his throat and got Blaine´s attention in return. "And I don´t get to have a say in this? I mean, this is practically about me. I would say that –" , "No you don´t get a say in this Ladyface. Except if you want to get thrown out of the team. If that´s the case I will gladly help." Sue interrupted him mid-sentence.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "It is not the tutoring that´s bothering me, but why Anderson? There are way better tutors than him and yes I am not just referring to better looks."

Blaine rolled his eyes in turn about such a superficial attitude and mirrored Kurt´s disgusted expression without losing sweat until Kurt lowered his gaze in an almost nervous manner and averted his eyes, his cheeks red. Blaine´s brows shot up in surprise. Did Hummel just blush? Or did his mind play tricks on him?

Sue Sylvester looked at both of them unimpressed and cleared her throat. "Just get lost. I don´t have enough time to waste it with both of you, instead of plotting against the damn Glee club and its pathetic teacher." She clasped her hands on top of the desk and nodded to the door.

"But-" Kurt tried to intervene when Sylvester interrupted him again. "But nothing. Move your fat ass and four eyes here out of my office otherwise you will wish you´d have never met me." Hummel defiantly looked at her but strut, his head held high, out of the room. Blaine sighed and hurried to exit the room as fast as possible, afraid Sue would throw something at him if he didn´t.

Right as he was about to open the door, he heard Sylvester´s voice a last time. "Have fun together but I don´t want to see some rainbow pooping babies afterwards, if you understand what I mean." Totally confused, Blaine turned around. "Get out of here or I will make sure you won´t ever be able to produce children anymore. Not that you´d need to do that." Without hesitation, Blaine left the room and closed the door behind him. He didn´t want to find out how sincere her threats were. In the few month he had spent at this school he had learned that Sue Sylvester wasn´t someone you wanted to cross ways with at night. And Blaine really wasn´t someone that was quick to be intimidated, but he´d like to keep his pride and dignity, thank you very much.

In the hallway Blaine looked at his watch. The conversation in the office had taken plenty of time. If he went home right then he could have a few more hours alone in his house. But before that he had to find Hummel and at least ask for his number. He would never want to be seen with Blaine in public in front of his friends and Blaine needed a way to contact him. Blaine didn´t want to anger Sylvester. He believed her when she threatened to expose the files and he would take this serious if he had to. He looked around the deserted hallway and caught the boy standing a few feet away, his arms crossed, leaning against the row of lockers.

Blaine breathed in deeply and went up to him.

"We'll have to exchange numbers so that we can agree on a time to meet up. The best would be you call me tonight."

Kurt looked as if he had eaten a lemon.

"Do we have to?" he asked almost stroppy and stood a little straighter. Blaine raised one eyebrow and gave him a disgusted look. "Look, you don´t have to tutor me. Lately I just haven´t had much time for studying. I´ll do better, shorten my free time and study, then it will be just fine again."

Blaine had already guessed that Hummel would offer something like this and however enticing that may sound, there were much more important things at stake.

"No, I have my reasons for taking this seriously so I will." He fished his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Kurt.

He rolled his eyes again and keyed in his number with experienced fingers. Blaine reached out to receive his phone and heard Kurt silently gasp for air. His blue eyes had spotted Blaine´s now violently bruised hand that was still stretched out. "You should get this checked, it doesn´t look very well." Hummel carefully stated examining the injury with pity.

Blaine was sure he had misheard; was Hummel kidding? He had been to one to stomp on his hand. And now he dared to advice him to consult a doctor about it? He felt a lump build in his throat. He ripped the phone out of Kurt´s hand and almost began to smile in self-satisfaction when Kurt flinched at his cold glare and his aggressiveness. Somehow Blaine managed a haunted smile. "I´ll call you." He said and turned around to exit the building hurriedly.

Kurt, whose eyes followed the retreating figure woke from his stupor and he called that he would need Blaine´s number as well, his voice resounding in the deserted hallway. Blaine ignored him and slammed the door shut.

He didn´t know what he´d have done if he had to face him any longer. The anger had boiled inside of him and he just had to leave. He arrived at his car, a present of his parents for his 16th birthday, in record time and slammed the door shut once inside. His hands automatically reached for a cigarette and he lit his second cigarette that day. He normally liked to keep his habit in check, but he had a feeling that the upcoming days would make it harder than ever to do that.

* * *

So this was practically the introduction.

The next chapter is where the real stuff begins.


End file.
